


+1 (Plus One)

by Marvel_Shipper_Reborn



Category: Sebastian Stan - Fandom
Genre: Blind Date, Cheeseburgers, Dirty Talk, Disappointment, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Fucked Up, Getting to Know Each Other, I Blame Tumblr, Multi, NSFW Art, Romance, Wedding Planning, Wedding Rings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 02:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10912347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvel_Shipper_Reborn/pseuds/Marvel_Shipper_Reborn
Summary: For her sister's upcoming wedding, Isabelle shall bring a +1. She doesn't really like the idea, especially not if she cannot pick and choose her date by herself.





	+1 (Plus One)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angryschnauzer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angryschnauzer/gifts).



> Inspired by angryschnauzer's [post](https://angryschnauzer.tumblr.com/post/147146108100/what-i-should-have-done-with-my-free-afternoon) 'What i should have done with my free afternoon: Nap. What i did with my free afternoon: Read Bucky Fanfics and masturbated until i came 3 times.'

It was just another Saturday afternoon. Kinda bleary, kinda hazy, but what else could you expect from a summer day in the city? My sister had rushed over for brunch this morning, chatting with me about this and that: the latest Hollywood gossip, her newly-bought summer blouse, then proudly displaying her perfectly manicured fingernails and an expectant look. I had only then noticed the ring sitting proudly on her left hand. I swear I have never seen her smile as widely as I did that afternoon.

Finally, after five years of going steady, not to mention two years of communal living, her boyfriend finally asked her the big question.

I was so happy for her, with her, and she immediately told me about the wedding dress she had been dying to try on and the great hall near the city she would like to celebrate the occasion in.

She hadn't even finished her meal, telling me she’d already started her diet so she would look perfect on their wedding day.

I didn't say a word, knowing how over-the-top she could get sometimes. I let her talk, cleaning the table during her description of the dress' colour and washing the dishes while she launched into a play-by-play recap of how her boyfriend had kneeled down in front of her.

I knew she was excited; it kind of was her day, and she had every right to be happy, but there was one little thing that she missed.

I had gotten divorced only a few months ago.

"—and I'm so sorry, Belle, but I need to go. I've got this super important appointment with Cristina Verger, you know?"

"Wait, you mean _the_ Cristina Verger? The wedding planner?"

"Yes!" She beamed, "and it's been so hard to get an appointment. I mean, she's really good, and really successful, and really amazing, and really _expensive_."

“Wow. I mean—“

"Oh, I know. I gotta go, dear sister. But I'll call you soon, okay? I'll tell you everything, I promise. God, Cristina and I, we've already talked about the roses and the candles..."

"Alright," I laughed, "but remember not to call me during my naptime, Allison."

"You just sound like grandma," she groaned, hugging me tight. "It's been so nice to be with you again. I can't wait for next week."

She couldn't even say goodbye properly; Cristina Verger was calling already.

I wasn't sad about her quick departure, or disappointed about her mental absence, but let me be honest: I was a teensy bit glad once I could close the door and welcome the usual silence again.

* * *

 Of course I should have known that Allison wouldn't wait until I had taken my regular nap between three and five – an old English habit that grandma taught me, I'm afraid. I had just fallen asleep when my phone buzzed wildly on the glass table, the ringtone already giving her away.

"Yes?"

"Belle, I need to talk to you right now. There's this thing; I know you don't like the idea of a blind date, but I think the two of you could work out great! He'll be sitting next to you on the wedding anyway, and he's cute. God, he's so good-looking and such a gentleman! I would jump that guy immediately."

I couldn't bite back a laugh. "Then why don't you?"

"Oh please, I'm going to marry John. I don’t get to have fun like _that_ anymore. And besides, Seb's his one of best friends."

"Seb?"

"Yeah, Seb. Sebastian. You know, the guy uhm—ah, I don't know his last name right now. But you'll meet him soon, anyway. I talked to him today, told him about you and your div—"

"No! Allison, you didn't tell him about that!" I cried.

"I did. What? It's not as if no one would know. You kinda involved everyone and their mother."

That hurt.

"C'mon, Belle, he said he'd like to meet you. Get to know you. You're his best friend's sister-inlaw, after all."

"And you don't think he's just telling you... _this_ to get me into bed?" I sighed, my mind already wandering to all the previous dates my little sister had set up for me.

"Are you judging every man to be an asshole before you meet them, now?"

"Well, if I remember correctly, _you_ were the one—"

"I _know_ that I chose them for you," She huffed. After taking a deep, audible breath, she said, "It's just, I want my big sister to be happy again. I want you to smile again, to blush when you talk about a night full of romance, I want to go shopping with you again, buying lingerie and nail polish and lipstick and then sharing a big cup of ice cream together."

Damn. I had been a total wreck already, and listening to Allison mentioning those old times only made it worse.

Sniffing slightly, I tried to calm her down. "I love you, Allison, and I can't say I don't miss all of this, as well. I'm not sure if—if I'm ready for another man again. Let alone someone I don't even know."

"But, Isabelle, I _swear_ he could be the one. He literally _begged_ me to give him your number."

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I can't promise anything."

"You're going to meet him, though, are you? Please, Belle, pretty please."

I could practically hear the despair in her voice.

"Okay," I chuckled, "I'll go on that date with him."

"Perfect! But we're gonna go shopping before you meet him; you can't wear that old red dress all the time. Oh, which reminds me: there's this new Boutique, we just have to go there!"

"Alright, alright..."

"Oh my god, yes, I'm already picturing the perfect outfit: black pencil skirt, a gossamer blouse, black lace bra and—"

"Allison!"

"What?"

"It's not like we're gonna just have a little chat, drink Margherita's and then fuck for the rest of the night."

"I'm not so sure about that, sister," I heard her giggle from the other end of the line.

What had I just gotten myself into, again?

* * *

 Allison had been right about his eagerness to get to know me.

That night I already received his first message; he had introduced himself as Sebastian, a good friend of my sister's fiancé, and kindly asked for 'an appointment to get to know each other better'. The fact that he didn't call it a date made him about ten times more sympathetic to me.

I didn't like 'dating'. I wasn't 'dating' men; I was 'meeting a person of the opposite sex on a neutral basis to exchange ideas and check the potential partner for their paces'. Sometimes that included me slapping one across their face for mentioning something so inappropriate; other times we ended up having the world's best sex and a night full of promises, but never hearing of them again afterwards.

Even though I had a decent amount of experience under my belt by now, I had no clue what to expect this time. Sebastian had been a gentleman, indeed: he let me choose the date and time for our 'meeting', and asked for my tastes in food. He even assured me that if I changed my mind at the eleventh hour, he wouldn't be offended.

I was torn back and forth, but decided to give it a try.

We would meet the upcoming Friday, which meant I had only five more days to find something new to wear. Normally, I would have shaken it off with an eye-roll, but I behaved like a nervous teen before prom night, and Allison was more than happy to help.

Said Boutique was like paradise; a retro shop with my beloved fashion as far as my eyes could see. I didn't choose the pencil skirt and blouse that my sister had recommended, but bought [a black pencil dress](https://topvintage.net/en/vintage-retro/50s-thalia-pencil-dress-in-blackw) which hugged my curves just fine. She tried to persuade me that it was too simple, too boring, but I didn't want to show off too much yet. If he were the right one, he would get to see more, anyway, one day.

Friday night came earlier than I expected, and I was glad that I had taken a cab to the restaurant. I wouldn't have been able to drive my car even one meter.

After walking through the doors and being welcomed and asked for the name of my reservation, I was brought to a two-seated table in a back corner. Candles were lit, and our names were sewn on the napkins, even.

I didn't want to know what all of this cost.

My excitement grew whenever the front door opened, but no man entering the restaurant would come to the lonely little table. Soon, it was 11 pm, and I was starting to feel tired.

Not just because we’d lost daylight, but also because I had been disappointed all over again.

Fuck his gentleman-like behavior, fuck his kind requests and interest in me.

I took one last look on my phone, but there was neither message nor a missed call from him.

Tears already formed around the edges of my eyes, and I tried hard to not let them escape. I had spent too much time on my makeup and this asshole wouldn't be the cause of ruining it!

Rather more mad than sad I left the table, wished the waitress a goodnight and stalked out when I bumped into a man who was obviously in a hurry.

A hand caught me right in time so I wouldn't topple, but in my heated state, I probably wasn't thinking about what I was saying. "Don't step on my shoes, asshole! They’re new! Steve Maddens!"

"I'm so sorry, Miss! I'm really late, and the—"

"Mister Stan, is everything alright?" A male voice called from behind, walking over to us.

That only pissed me off more. "Everything alright? You're asking _him_ if everything is alright? What about _me_? Is no one interested in how _I'm_ feeling?"

"Miss, please respect our discretion and compliance with the quiet zone--"

" _Discretion_ —"

"It's alright, Francesco. Look, Miss, I'm really sorry. I hope your evening isn't ruined by now."

"You? Ruined? I wouldn't say so, but I sure know that the guy I've been waiting for since eight ruined my evening." I didn't know what happened back then, but I suddenly felt like I had to let them know that I was beyond furious. And I didn't stop talking, which I regret now.

"You—"

"How could I have been so dumb? I listened to my sister, my _little_ sister, and let her convince me to go on a fucking blind date. So I'm buying this fucking dress and fucking lace lingerie, wear fucking red lipstick and a fucking red nail polish and put on the hottest stockings I had only to be stood up."

"Then I suppose you're Isabelle?"

I whipped my head to look at the man who just caught me, and he gave me a weak smile. "I’m— I’m Sebastian."

Well, shit.

"You—you're—"

"I'm so sorry. I wanted to call you, but my phone ran dead and my assistant didn't have your number—"

"You're Sebastian?"

"Yes, I'm Sebastian. Isabelle, I can't tell you how sorry I am."

I had not only made a show out of a little incident, but even offended my date in front of a fancy restaurant, filled with a-list prominents. I wanted to cry.

"... Isabelle?"

"Yeah?"

"I know this is probably the worst question I could ask now, but are you still up for dinner?"

"Are you kidding me?" It sounded much harsher than I intended.

"No, and I can understand your disappointment." He looked me right in the eyes and didn't let go of my hands when he asked me the following question. "Would you at least allow me to escort you back home?"

I closed my eyes and thought for a moment.

On the one side, I didn't want to spend one more second with this dumbass, but on the other side...

He was indeed the good-looking gentleman Allison had described to me.

"Get me my coat, please."

* * *

Sebastian had kindly cancelled our reservation and paid for my drink, as well as leaving a sizable tip for Francesco.

He helped me into my coat, held the door open for me, and walked next to me with a certain reservation.

For a while, we didn't speak a word, but when a fast food restaurant came into view, he carefully asked me if I were hungry.

I wanted to say no, but my stomach replied on its own by grumbling heavily.

"I take that as a 'yes'," Sebastian chuckled.

"Well, I can't say 'no' now," I replied with a little smile.

"What do you want? And please don't say 'just a diet coke. It’s my treat. Honest."

I shook my head and laughed. "No diet coke. But completely serious right now; I would love to have a super greasy hamburger, with bacon and cheese."

"Oh my god..."

I didn't dare ask if that had been what he had wanted to hear or not, but he answered my unspoken question himself.

"It’s like you stole the words right out of my brain.”

"You mean—"

"I could marry you right here and now."

"You can't be serious!"

"Well, I am, but since I fucked up with the restaurant—"

"I'm sure you had your reasons." I replied calmly, but then he stopped walking and turned around to face me.

"Don't say that."

"Why?"

"Because we both know it's not true."

"You know," I whispered, "it makes a lot of things easier."

"Is that why you didn't want to meet me, first?"

"What?"

"Is this the reason why you keep saying things like that? Because you were afraid to be disappointed by another man? Because you didn't want to be hurt again?"

He had hit home.

"Can we please change the subject?"

"Isabelle, look at me..."

I didn't want to, knowing that I couldn't stay strong if I took a look at his sorrowful expression, so I shook my head, but he carefully took my face in his hands and ran his thumb over my jaw. And then he whispered ever so softly, "It’s okay to let other people own up to their mistakes. I’m truly sorry, Isabelle.”

That did it. I couldn't even fight them off; the tears ran down on their own.

"No, please don't cry," he said and immediately brushed a rolling tear away with his thumb. "Oh god, I didn't want to make you cry."

"No, it's fine," I sniffed, "you didn't make me cry. It was just—most guys—they never—"

"I should've held my tongue, right?" He whispered and I nodded. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault that I'm meeting the wrong guys."

"But I've just given you one more name on the list of men being assholes."

"I didn't say that. You did the opposite," I replied, carefully running my fingers under my eyes. "I must be looking like shit by now, right?"

Sebastian shook his head and pulled me close, rubbing my back soothingly. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"Oh, stop it," I giggled, "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"Maybe I am," he replied with a boyish grin, "but maybe I'm only being honest. And now I'm getting you that Cheeseburger!"

* * *

 We had chosen to eat our oh-so-royal burgers at the nearby fountain, and I started to think that maybe this was even more romantic than sitting in a fancy restaurant and slurping oysters and chardonnay.

The fountain had a few rainbow lights built in that changed colors every few moments. The shifting glow illuminated Sebastian’s handsome face, and he smiled when he caught me staring. I blushed and looked away, only to feel his hand find mine and hold on tight. To be honest, I couldn't think of anywhere else I’d rather be in that moment. I didn’t want it to end.

We talked about this and that; Sebastian asked me about my job as running an artist's workshop, and I wanted to hear everything of what it's like to be an actor. He offered me to come and visit him on set.

"I can't do that," I told him, "I don't have the balls to just come there and say 'Hi, I'm a friend of Seb and he invited me over'."

"Why not? It's not like we're _something_ , Belle. We're just human, and you have no idea how much I'd love to see you there after a long day of shooting action scene after action scene. Oh my god, you have no idea how many takes."

"I feel honored to be invited, really, but I don't think I can. Especially if there's Captain America on set, because, hell, he would _so_ set my panties on fire."

Sebastian immediately choked on his soda, and next thing I heard was his muffled laughter.

_Oh my god, I did not say that out loud._

"He would _what_?"

Nervously, I played with my drinking straw. "I—I mean, he's such a talented actor just like you, and all the action hero stuff and—well, you can’t blame a girl for—“

"Wait," he stopped me mid-sentence, smirking. "Are you suggesting we’re interchangeable?"

"No! God, no! Just how the media hypes you guys up."

He laughed one last time, then shook his head, eyes closed. "You have no idea how hard it is for most people to get past that."

I jumped on the change of topic, hoping to distance myself from my slip-up. “What do you mean?”

“Like...it’s hard for most people to see us as real humans. We’re not objects. You wouldn’t believe how demanding some fans are on the convention circuit. Some of them are incredibly nice, but the bad ones are _bad_ , let me tell you."

“That sounds awful. Tell me about it, I want to hear it.”

He looked back at me, one eyebrow quirked up bemusedly. “You asked for it. So, setting the scene: it was my first run for the San Diego Comic Con…”

 

We kept talking for another two hours, with him regaling me with stories and complaints about life in the spotlight. As an artist and a writer, it was so intriguing for me to hear about this life on the other side. No one could adequately provide that perspective unless they d lived it themselves.

Around two AM, I suggested that I head home, and he insisted that he walk me there.

“It’s just five minutes,” I murmured. “Not that I’m objecting to your company, Sebastian. This was an incredible night.”

“Anything to drag this out for another half hour,” he laughed.

It took us almost ten minutes to get to my apartment building, both of us seeming to drag our steps so as to keep the night going forever. But arrive we did, and suddenly all I could see were his lips and his eyes and _oh god should I kiss him should I make that leap?_

“—just letting you know,” he finished.

I snapped back to reality, stammering out something I hoped was understandable. “I’m so, so sorry I completely missed that.”

He smiled, but something in his eyes was edging towards mischievousness. “I said, I’ve actually been thinking about what you said earlier. Been thinking about it all night.”

Suddenly, he was inching closer towards me, his eyes not leaving mine.

"Sebastian, what are you—"

"Sshhh," he placed his forefinger against my lips and leaned in, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear, "I'm just wondering, could any actor… set your panties on fire…?"

I didn't know whether he wanted me to say something, nod my head in agreement or shake it in disagreement, so I didn't do anything at all. My breathing was worryingly shallow, though. Much to my surprise – or might I say shock – he just went on.

"Are you dreaming of other men, too? Watching movies with them and thinking of them devouring your body for hours? Are you imagining them on top of you, sweating, rolling your hips to meet their thrusts while you moan their name?"

I gasped when I suddenly felt one finger run over down my neck and along my cleavage. "Sebastian..."

"... because right now I wish you wouldn't dream about any of them, but about _me_."

And then he pressed his lips against mine in a heated kiss.

I was completely taken aback, and couldn’t force my own lips to respond right away. Instead, I felt my hands reach out and grab at his shirt, pulling him even closer against me.

He cupped my face in his hands again, just as he had done earlier when I had cried, and when I felt him run his tongue over my bottom lip I moaned his name quietly.

Within seconds, we were panting as if we had just finished running a marathon. My hands in his hair, his tongue in my mouth and god, I didn't know what happened to me, but I wanted him. I wanted him here, I wanted him now. Out in front of the old brick apartment house with its fading streetlight and rusted wrought-iron fence.

Between kisses he pressed me back against the door of the apartment building, murmured my name, whispered, "Are you wet for me?”

I pulled him even more flush against me, my hand tentatively reaching inside his pants. "Well, I can say that _you're_ hard for me," I gasped when I felt him beneath my fingers.

God, he _was_ hard! And not just that; this guy was fucking _blessed_.

"Oh, fuck!"

I hadn't even realized that he had unbuttoned my blouse down to my navel; just now I felt him playing tenderly with my breast.

"You like that?" Sebastian growled.

"Yes..."

"God, I could worship those tits all night, Belle."

"I could say the same about your cock," I murmured, "I want to feel you inside me so bad."

"Fuck..."

If there were by chance any paparazzi around us, they were getting a pretty good show. But I think neither Sebastian nor I gave a fuck about them until a car alarm began sounding up and down the street.

"I—I think we should continue this inside," I whispered.

"In more ways than one, hopefully,” he laughed before kissing me on my nose.

* * *

 I didn't even have a chance to close my door; it swung closed on its own as I was being pushed against the next wall, my neck attacked by his hungry lips.

Sebastian shut the door closed with his foot, then eagerly fumbled with the rest of buttons of my blouse while I unzipped his pants and reached behind him to pull them down along with his briefs.

"I'm usually not doing things like this so quickly," I told him, and he nodded his head.

"Me neither."

"Sebastian..."

He must've been so absent that I had to push him off me. "Sebastian."

"Yes?"

"Please don't tell my sister or John about this," I pleaded him, and he smiled warmly; a smile that caused me to press my legs together.

"I promise, Isabelle. Not a word. These panties though," he growled, "I can't promise that they're gonna survive this night."

Before I could protest, he had ripped the fabric apart. The black lace dangled between my legs, and I wiggled my hips so it fell to the floor.

"Don't you dare do the same to my bra," I pouted, "it's my favourite."

He laughed softly and unclasped it carefully, then pushed both my blouse and the balconette bra down and within an instant, he nuzzled my chest.

"Oh god," he moaned, "you have the most beautiful breasts I've ever seen."

I wished he would shut up, but then again it was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard of a man saying. Not even my husband had made me a compliment such as this.

"You're blushing," he stated, and I realized that my mind had been wandering.

"Sorry."

"Why do you apologize? It's nothing to be ashamed of; quite the opposite, actually."

I hadn't felt that sexy in a long time, and Sebastian awoke something I had never felt before; true passion.

I had had sex, yes, but never sex like this; the foreplay, the touching, the talking, and don't get me started with all the positions. I mean, we didn't try a whole kama sutra, but damn, if I had only known that there was so much more than only missionary, reverse cowgirl, or doggy style.

I never would have thought that I would enjoy intimacy that much.

I remember laying in his arms around dawn, both of us exhausted and sweaty, and before I drifted off into slumber I could feel him press a kiss to my forehead and hear him whisper something that sounded like "I never want to let you go."

With his arms around me, a smile on my lips and his scent filling my nostrils, I fell asleep.


End file.
